


Grandpa Bee & Nanny Cat

by audreycritter



Series: Cor Et Cerebrum [30]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Baby, Fluff, Gen, Mild Illness, The fluffiest fluff, everybody holds the baby, it is quiet and too late, no profreading we die like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 22:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreycritter/pseuds/audreycritter
Summary: This is pure, self-indulgent fluff.Selina Kyle stops by the manor to find Bruce babysitting-- kind of-- his grandson, Jason's oldest. There's more quiet than chaos and I do not apologize.





	Grandpa Bee & Nanny Cat

The study was not as quiet as Selina Kyle expected it to be at three in the morning when approached it. She pressed her ear to the door to determine who was inside and if she wanted to interrupt.

She was surprised to hear one-sided quiet murmuring, too low for a phone call. Curious, she pushed the door open and peered in.

Bruce was not at his desk like she had expected; he was pacing by the empty fireplace, his back to her. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of the door opening, even though it was barely a sound at all. His senses were always sharp, though, and she took his eye contact as invitation and slipped into the room.

There was a baby in his arms, with warm brown skin the color of the oak trees outside, and tight little black curls of hair. She was bad at guessing the ages of children, but she knew this one and that he was around six months old.

“Don’t tell me you’re so desperate you’re kidnapping children now,” she whispered, perching on the edge of the couch arm. It felt like the sort of place to be quiet, even though the baby was staring wide-eyed and fully awake at Bruce’s face.

“Jay’s sick,” Bruce whispered back, that low voice he had that shouldn’t be able to form words the way it did. “Alfred made him come over for a few days so we could help.”

“Grandpa Bruce, huh.” She grinned impishly at him, teasing, even though some small part of her heart ached at the truth of it. She felt like children of her own was something she’d missed out on, by choice or circumstance, and most of the time didn’t even regret it-- she wasn’t moping around feeling weepy for lost opportunities. But Bruce, for all his attempts at isolation, had always seemed like the sort of man who needed family.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he warned. He pulled his eyes from her face and looked down at the attentive infant again, and said something so softly Selina couldn’t make it out. It might not have been English, or even words at all.

“Oh, hush,” Selina said, rising to stand next to him and look down at Isaac. “You love it.”

“I do,” he acknowledged with a half smile, still looking at the baby. A little hand reached up and swatted clumsily at his face.

“So, did you commit the cardinal sin of waking him when you got back?” Selina was still curious.

“No,” Bruce said, catching the hand in one of his own. The grip tightened around one of his fingers, the tiny digits dwarfed by his own pale hand. “Alfred was up with him. I told him to get some rest and I’d get Isaac to sleep. Clearly, I’ve made excellent progress.”

“At least he’s not crying,” Selina offered, an amused attempt at consolation. Bruce didn’t really sound that bothered though.

“It’s a minor improvement,” Bruce said, just as Isaac’s lips scrunched in a dangerous way. Bruce left her side to resume his pacing and Isaac’s face relaxed.

After a few minutes, he gave her a sidelong glance.

“Want to hold him?”

“Would I survive Jason?”

“What makes you think he’d be upset?”

“I’ve heard the criminal life is catching.”

“Do you remember how I found Jay?”

Selina laughed and relented, holding her arms out. “Give the kid over before I change my mind. If he even looks unhappy, he’s all yours again.”

The little body settled against her and into her arms without so much as a whimper of protest at being moved. She walked with him for a moment, making a lazy figure-8 on the rug, while Bruce sat on the couch and leaned back with a sigh.

“You in one piece over there, Bat?” she asked. Her gaze was still on Isaac when she asked, the baby’s wide eyes studying her face.

“Pulled something,” Bruce admitted. “My shoulder’s stiff.”

“I could do something about that if you hadn’t made us responsible adults. You and your brood.”

“Don’t leave yourself out of that,” Bruce said. There was a wry smile on his face even though his eyes were closed when she looked over. “You’ve been around a lot. Steph and Cass were deciding the other day what your name should be when they talk to Isaac.”

“Oh no.” Selina laughed and Isaac’s eyes and mouth opened in surprise. “Shhh,” she said to him with what she hoped was a gentle smile. She spoke to Bruce again. “I’ll have to make myself scarce for a while before I get too permanent. Maybe leave the country.”

“Nanny Cat was Cass’ favorite,” Bruce said. “I think they’re going for an animal theme. I haven’t told them yet that it’s mostly up to him. France, next month?”

“The entourage included?”

“Just us. A week or two.”

“Not Paris,” Selina said. “I’m in the mood for a beach.”

“You’re just hoping I’ll get a sunburn again,” Bruce accused in a grumble. He stretched his legs out, his feet propped on the coffee table.

“It’s not my fault you’re stubborn about sunblock. I offered, twice. That’s my limit.” Selina made sure Isaac was securely nestled along one arm before using the other to poke his nose. He blinked at her.

“I’ll book tickets,” Bruce said.

Isaac yawned and Selina sat on the other end of the couch, risking infantile rage to lean back against the arm and relax. Her own feet ached from those stupid heels she should have given up on sooner earlier in the day. She tucked them across the middle cushion, facing Bruce.

She found a bit of curled string in her slim, too-small pocket. It wasn’t anything intentional, just the equivalent of lint in the place where she hoped she had a mint or two. Rather than leave it or brush it off her fingers onto the rug, she decided to experiment and drifted it in front of Isaac’s face.

Eagerly, his eyes attempted to focus on it, following it and overshooting more than once. His face crinkled in concentration as he tried to make sense of the oddity and keep it in his line of sight. She held it in one place and bounced it.

“Selina.” Bruce interrupted with a note of shock in his tone. There was open horror on his usually controlled face. “Selina, he’s not a cat.”

Isaac giggled and swung an arm wildly at the string, missing by a good ten inches.

“What?” she protested. “He’s not complaining.”

“He’s going to be mad when you won’t let him put it in his mouth.”

Isaac gummed on his fist as he contemplated the string, now softly swaying above him.

“Find something he can, then,” Selina said, prodding Bruce’s side with an outstretched foot. He pulled himself off the couch and went to rummage around on the desk. He came back with a colorful alligator and held it out to her.

But Isaac was now sleepily gnawing on his fingers. He yawned and his eyes drifted shut.

Bruce sat down again and kept the alligator, resting it on the arm of the couch beside him.

“I’m assuming the alligator is part of the animal theme,” Selina commented in an even softer whisper.

“It’s a crocodile.” Bruce leaned back and yawned.

“How do you know?”

“Have you ever seen an alligator?” he asked, gesturing toward the toy.

Selina considered it for a moment. It was green and neon orange, with purple eyes and a black and white striped tail.

“You are a terrible person,” she decided.

“I’ve been called worse, and by you,” Bruce accepted amiably. “You’re good with him.”

“Only because he’s playing along.” Selina looked down. Isaac was almost asleep, one side of his mouth twitching and his eyes fluttering gently. “Any hint of real work and I’m dumping him in your lap.”

Selina didn’t know if it was something in the way she spoke or just his own thoughts that made Bruce turn his head, still tipped back on the couch, toward her.

“Do you wish things had been different?”

Isaac twisted a little in her arms and fussed, then settled again. Selina swallowed and scooted back a bit more and put her feet in Bruce’s lap. Almost automatically, he began rubbing her ankles and then massaging her arches with his thumbs.

“No,” Selina said honestly. “It’s a waste of time to think about it being anything other than what it is. But I don’t mind this, for right now.”

“Hmm,” Bruce said, his hands pausing as he rolled one shoulder a little, and then resuming their motion.

With a little arch of his back, Isaac smacked his lips and then woke himself up with a feeble cry. Selina bounced him a little but he wailed more loudly in reply. She sat up straight, feeling suddenly helpless herself, and right as Bruce held his arms out there was a sleepy mumble from the doorway of the study.

“He’s hungry.” Jason was standing there in gym shorts and a faded t-shirt, his hair sticking straight up on one side, shaking a bottle. “Al said you were down here with him.” He sniffled, a congested and miserable sound.

Bruce stood with Isaac in his arms and held a hand out for the bottle. Jason shook his head and stretched an arm out in reply.

“Gimme my kid, old man.”

Jason sank into the armchair facing the couch, still looking half-asleep, and Isaac quieted almost immediately and sucked hungrily on the bottle.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked, sitting next to Selina. He grabbed for her feet again and she kicked at his hand but he snatched her ankle and tugged. She gave up and let him have them.

“Like shit,” Jason said. A second later he added, “Don’t say ‘shit,’ Isaac. I’m sick or I’d be more careful.”

“You can go back to bed.” Bruce didn’t get up when he offered and Selina thought he seemed content to not force the issue.

“I will.” Jason yawned. “But I haven’t seen him all day. It’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Bruce chuckled. “I was at work.”

“You collected too many of us. Everybody wants a turn with the new one.” Jason pulled the bottle back when Isaac mewled angrily at it and shook it some more. Isaac seemed pacified by this subtle change and kept eating when it was reoffered.

Selina watched silently, feeling strangely comfortable for the domestic quality of the scene and the desire to make an escape was absent. It might have had something to do with the fact that Bruce was still massaging her sore feet.

The only sound in the room for several minutes was that of Isaac sucking on the bottle.

“I’m falling asleep,” Jason mumbled. “If he’s out, too, just leave us here.”

“I can put him in his crib,” Bruce said.

“I’m not gonna drop him,” Jason said irritably. “And I can’t sleep lying down anyway. We’ll be fine.” He put the empty bottle on the floor and propped Isaac up on his shoulder. The baby did look thoroughly and completely asleep, more than he ever had in Selina’s arms. His mouth was slack and a string of drool dangled and dripped on Jason’s shirt. A second later, Jason snored. Isaac didn’t move.

“C’mon,” Bruce patted Selina’s ankle and stood.

She flicked off the light as they left the room.

“Bed or food?” Bruce asked, sounding exhausted himself. “If you’re staying.”

“Bed,” Selina said, pointing down the hallway. “Lead the way. I’m too tired to go home now. You made me too relaxed.”

“My master plan,” Bruce teased, climbing up the stairs in step with her. “I’m a good strategist, you know.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Selina said. “Maybe someday it’ll be true. As it is, your haphazardly assembled family strongly contests that point.”

“He’s a good dad, isn’t he?” Bruce answered, his voice twinged with pride.

“Yes,” Selina agreed, putting her arm through his at the top of the stairs. “You have a good family, Bat. Thanks for sharing sometimes.”

“Anytime, Nanny Cat.” Bruce grinned in the dark hallway, so sharp and sudden that she could see and hear it even in the dim quiet. She jabbed his ribs and pretended more annoyance than she actually felt, letting it chase away the faint edge of cautionary fear that tried to creep in.

“I’m taking the good pillows just for that,” she said, opening the door and going into the master bedroom ahead of him. “You’ll just have to tough it out.”


End file.
